


That time we got caught buying eyeliner in NYC (and got grounded again)

by GraceEliz



Series: Why don't we just break the rules already? [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC - Fandom, Iron Man - Fandom, MCU
Genre: Alfred is not Amused, Breaking The Rules, Crack, Fluff, Gen, Humour, Shenanigans, Young Bruce Wayne, Young Harvey Dent, Young Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboys, no pain at all guaranteed, young lex luthor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 11:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19271944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceEliz/pseuds/GraceEliz
Summary: The year is 1990. Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent are 16, their other best friends Lex Luthor and Tony Stark are 18 and 20 respectively. They are grounded, firmly, by Jarvis in one of their properties (they can't always remember who owns what) in Miami.New York is pretty accessible by plane when you have the money to skip queues.





	That time we got caught buying eyeliner in NYC (and got grounded again)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scottishwaitress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scottishwaitress/gifts).



> He first installment of my newest series! I can't wait to see it grow.

“Rob! Pssst, Rob! C'mon man, wake up man. We gotta plane t’ catch.”

Bruce shoved his head further under the cushion, attempting to wriggle deeper into the back of the sofa he’d spent the night on. At least Tony had reasonably comfy furniture. Harvey rolled his eyes and snatched away the quilt. Hopefully the cold air would break into Bruce’s head. He always got muggy after a drinking session. 

“Get up you lazy sod we gotta go,” he said firmly, furtively eyeing the exits in case Jarvis or (God forbid) Howard entered. “Bruce, get up and go throw up before we leave.” He noted with some pride that Bruce was starting to shuffle around looking for his quilt – that meant he’d get up in the next ten minutes or so. They had just enough time for him to go throw up to clear his systems, get three pints of water into Tony and prize Lex out the closet he always somehow wound up sleeping in. Weird, that. Still. If Rhodey was on schedule, Tony should come stumbling in right about now.

“Harv,” croaked the 20 year old, “Harv, why are we up at 6am? Harv, I don’t wanna go.”

“Stop whining and get your stuff while I get Rob to the bathroom,” he ordered meeting Rhodey’s eyes. The understanding they had was the sort forged between two mom friends attempting to keep three genius playboy dumbass billionaires alive until someone else could take on the job. That said, he wouldn’t be allowing someone to take them on willy-nilly. They’d have to pass background checks and survive an interview with Rhodey. Harvey rolled his eyes as Bruce rumbled something about this being one of his worse ideas, but he staggered (with support) into the downstairs bathroom and slammed shut the door. “Don’t lock it,” he whisper-yelled, “Bruce Wayne do you hear, don’t lock that door!” Bruce gargled in response, and Harvey nodded in satisfaction as he heard him start to retch. One down. Two to go.

Lex was being reluctantly ushered into the kitchen by Rhodey to sit with Tony and get some coffee in him. Rhodey shoved the coffee pot at the two bleary-eyed geniuses as he handed a white unsealed envelope to Harvey labelled ‘tickets – 4 adult’ and two passports. He wasn’t coming? Great. The three dumbasses were his responsibility until New York. That wouldn’t be too hard though: in his bag was a book for Lex, a selection of pens and notebooks, a copy of Bruce’s thesis (not the master copy obviously), passports for Bruce and himself and generous quantities of money.

What happened in NYC, stayed there.

The flurry and bustle of usual morning panics was absent. It was somehow peaceful despite the fact they were sneaking out to the city whilst strictly grounded by both Alfred and Jarvis. Harvey was ignoring the fact that if they got caught they would be in so much trouble they might as well spend a few days in the cells. He really hoped they got through airport security. Within ten minutes the coffee was mostly gone, alongside most of a jug of water, and Bruce was stumbling from the bathroom. It worried Harvey, seeing his friend like this. Bruce was only barely over 16, a gangling teenager with a disregard for his own value and protective impulses usually resulting in violence. He slumped beside Tony, head in his hands, and Harvey forced away the bubble of fury that such a good kid suffered like this, had forced himself to grow up so quickly.

Three messed up billionaires, their friend from MIT, and a boy who dragged himself out of the Narrows.  
What a collection.  
The kitchen clock struck 6:15.  
“Up and at ‘em fellas,” announced Harvey, “We got a long day coming.”

 

Getting the four of them onto the plane proved easier than he’d anticipated, aside from Tony hitting on the stewardesses, and he managed to settle them all down. Harvey relaxed cautiously. If they got to New York incident free it would be fine, until they wound up recognised and in the tabloids, which was basically inevitable. Seeing Bruce sleep at all was unusual to say the least so Harvey took the chance to just observe the changing panes of his best friend’s face, seeing how sharp and square he was becoming, how the very last hints of his mother’s copper hair was fading out. The light played over him and Harvey thought for a moment he could see the bulky handsome man he would one day grow into. But for now they were only 16, burdened with memories to forget and money to spend, and Harvey shoved grim thoughts away and opened his notepad and worked on his literature project whilst the miles flew by.

Thankfully the journey passed quickly and Tony bundled Bruce into his coat and off the plane. Lex and Harvey ushered them out of the way of the other people navigating the chaos of the airport. They didn’t want to be noticed too early, or the whole day would be an absolute disaster before they even found a café for lunch. “So, we can go to the little hot dog place, then get around to Times Square,” said Tony. Lex nodded in agreement. Bruce had somehow got hold of a coffee, which wasn’t a surprise, but Harvey wished he’d got him one too. He was cold.

Trailing out a half hour or so later – Tony, Bruce, Harvey, Lex, the same order they walked anywhere – up the street completed the long process of waking Bruce up fully. The hotdog place was a tiny hole-in-the-wall where the prices were low but quality high and the owner knew the four of them well after two years of them popping in semi-regularly. He always agreed not to mention their presences, and had become an ally in feeding Bruce and keeping Tony comparatively sober. Neither of those things were a one-man battle.   
Unfortunately, he also had Jarvis and Alfred’s numbers in case of emergency and had been known to call them in when the gay clubs booted them out for disrupting the peace and breaking the law. In America none of them were actually legal to drink.

It wasn’t an obstacle.

The ketchup dripped down Harvey’s chin as he worked his jaw wide enough to actually bite into his breakfast. He’d recommend this place to anyone for the serving size alone. Bruce ate all of his, as did Lex, but Tony was getting distracted already. The proprietor handed over a few brown paper bags to carry leftovers in; Harvey managed a nod of thanks in between chasing the escaping sauce and dodging the doorframe on the way out after the others. People had asked him if he felt left out, the boy from the Narrows amongst the three richest heirs in business. Of course he didn’t. He was needed, loved, part of the group for better and worse. Bruce had offered to see whether he could legally become part of his family but Harvey refused. He knew who he was; where he came from; where he was going. Every step of the way, Bruce and he swore. Every single step.

Harvey loved New York. It was so bright and alive, not quite the bright indomitable skies of the golden Metropolis but so very far from the brutal hellishness of Gotham, a city open to anyone willing to fall into its glamour, a city for the weary to see what people could do for good as well as bad, where red light districts seemed to be the same as the business districts. Bruce behaved more his age here than anywhere else, running shop to shop and calling Lex to look at the Porsche driving past. This city tasted of freedom and oblivion and newness, and for that alone Harvey thanked whoever answered the prayers of desperate Gothamites.

The last of his hotdog (and Tony’s, Harvey never wasted food) consumed meant he was open to being hauled around by the others, and they cheerfully dragged him towards the classier end of Times Square. Alfred would argue that it was all flash and entirely without elegance, but the city was being pulled into respectability rather faster than Gotham was. “I want to watch Phantom of the Opera,” announced Bruce, “but I forgot my eyeliner, so we need to buy some.” He looked around for a shop that looked like it would sell reasonably decent black eyeliner – Harvey had known Bruce since they were six; he knew what Bruce was looking for – and took Harvey’s hand to drag him into a chemist’s. Harvey was left with his bag and the three fabric totes Bruce had somehow accumulated whilst his friend, god love him. “Rob,” he called, “please don’t buy up the shop! Alf will have our hides!”

Bruce didn’t seem to be listening.

“Hey Harv, where’d he go- oh, found him.”

“Lex."

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Where’s Tony.”

Lex’s eyes widened almost comically. If this wasn't usually the first sign of disaster and discovery, it would be hysterical. Harvey dropped his head into his hands. There goes the day out, he thought glumly, and wondered cynically how long it would take for him to convince Alfred and Jarvis he’d had nothing to do with whatever calamity was approaching. Knowing Tony it could be anything.

He just hoped it didn’t involve alcohol.

“Hey Harv! Lend me a dollar?” yelled Bruce from the other end of the store. Harvey scrabbled in his jeans for a few seconds and chucked the coin through the air. Bruce, being him, caught it one-handed. Show off, smirked Lex. Absolutely, grinned Harvey. The girl manning the checkouts kept sneaking glances towards them, dubiously looking at each of their faces before carefully examining the newspaper for a second and repeating. Curious about what she suspected Harvey turned to look at today’s paper.

“Oh shit,” he breathed. “Shit we’re going to be seen. Lex-” tugging Lex around to face the stand only got him confusion – “Lex, we’re on the front page.” Clattering and swearing made them flinch as the front door burst open and Tony fell through, wrapped in tinfoil. Harvey immediately decided that he didn’t want to know and would not be asking questions. Bruce tapped his shoulder, single eyebrow raised in the ‘we’ve been made’ angle.

Damn.

Lex ripped Tony out of the worst of it as Bruce finished his left eye’s wing and Harvey picked up the assorted bags. Lex smiled his most successful charming smile. “We’re awful sorry,” he apologised,” we’ll just – go – Tony move-”

Once out of the store Harvey glared at Tony.   
“Not my fault!”

“How isn’t it?”

“Bruce you’re meant to be on my side!”

“Well at least I didn’t cause a scene!”

“Rob,” interrupted Lex, “you put your eyeliner on perfectly without a mirror. You attracted attention. Anyway,” he held up the paper, “I think she recognised us.

They lasted another half hour before the paparazzi arrived. It was only 3 o’clock. 

 

“Bruce Thomas Wayne!”  
 _Crap_  
“Harvey Percy Dent, explain to me this instant why the pair of you are not in Miami but are stood on this doorstep FIFTEEN HOURS after being photographed in New York stinking of booze and fags!”

Harvey cringed. From Alfred, full names meant they were in a lot of trouble. He wasn’t against it, exactly, because he was still seeing double and Bruce had started throwing up in his favourite sweet peas, but the shouting was making the throbbing in his head worse.

“The pair of you will drink one litre of water and go straight t’ your rooms. No sharin’ mind! I can’t believe the cheek of you. I’ve a mind to give you a damn good thrashin’ for this young man-“ Alfred peeled Bruce out of the shrubs “- but I will decide your punishments in the morning. It is absolutely ridiculous you doing this! You are five years off legal drinking age! In fact, I…”  
Harvey zoned the butler out as he attempted to scale the stairs. They were jumping around a bit, but that could have been the tequila. Or the gin. Or whatever he’d been on. Something pink, maybe. Pink drinks were cool. He collided with his bedroom door and slumped until Alfred came and opened it for him, by which point he was mostly asleep. Was this what having a dad felt like? Someone who tucked you in and told you off and ended it with a kiss on the forehead. Heh. Maybe it would be worth…..

“You boys,” whispered Alfred over Harvey’s sleeping sprawl, “how far you will all go.  
You are in the meantime all four grounded for six weeks and I will be accompanying you both everywhere until that time is up.” He brushed the hair off Harvey’s cheek. “Sleep tight, dear boys.”


End file.
